Seasons of Skye
by PrimRose
Summary: She was an outcast, among outcasts. He was the noble king. Their story unfolds in a tale of love, heartbreak, and the unexpected, a Hunchback of Notre Dame continuation. Chapters 1-2 revised, chapter 3 finished! Please R&R I love reviews!
1. Brighter Skies

Seasons of Skye  
  
Author's Note:  
  
"Seasons of Skye" is in no way complete. There are only a few chapters so far in the first part (out of three parts.) I finally re-listed it; I hope I get some reviews this time. This is my first fanfic, so please do not be too harsh in reviewing! More will be added in the next few days/weeks.  
  
Also, the first three to five chapters may seem uneventful and don't portray my characters very well, but fear not! These first chapters are needed to set the tone for the rest of the story. (As more chapters and parts are added you'll see why, and learn more about the characters!) Please don't judge the fic by the first few chapters that I have put you through so far! Look for updates every couple days because I will be making more and adding the fourth and fifth within a week!  
  
This tale takes place a few months following the ending to the first Hunchback of Notre Dame movie. This is one of my favorite movies and I wanted to tell the stories of two of my favorite characters that were unlucky in the romance department throughout the first film, Clopin Trouillefou and Quasimodo. This fanfic addresses Clopin primarily *I know there are so many out there* If you prefer Quasimodo and want to read about his romantic endeavors than please watch for my fanfic entitled Candle in the Snow, coming soon.  
  
Finally, if you find that the flashbacks get confusing, let me know and I will start to title them, or if Skye seems like a Mary Sue please review. Thanks!  
  
Disclaimer: all characters are property of the Walt Disney Corporation, Victor Hugo or of me. Please, do not use any of my characters or ideas for your own use.  
  
Part One – From Summer to Spring  
  
Chapter Une – Brighter Skies  
  
"Get out gypsy vermin!" cried the street beggar. Skye fled from the street corner as she was being pelted with wooden canes, stale bread crusts and whatever else the beggars could find. A few weeks ago, Skye was forced to evacuate the boarding house, which she had lived in for weeks because she was a member of the Roma, and now she couldn't even share a street corner with beggars.  
  
"All because I'm a gypsy!" muttered Skye as she hid in a dark alleyway. Slumping down into a damp corner, Skye tried not to pity herself. It was hard being an outcast among outcasts.  
  
Though she did not currently live with the gypsies, somehow every landlord and house attendant always discovered that Skye was one of them. Her parents had been gypsies and Skye could remember living in the gypsy refuge known as the Court of Miracles. Bits and pieces of memories of her parents were stored in her frazzled brain. Here and there she would smile when she remembered riding on her father's shoulders during the Festival of Fools or having her mother braid her dark hair so that she could go sing in the town square with friends. All of those memories were fading rapidly. Skye could barely remember her parents; they left her to fend for herself at the age of seven, thirteen years ago.  
  
***  
  
"I can't believe we're doing this to her," whimpered a beautiful young dark haired woman, called Londra, who was holding a small bundle in her bony arms.  
  
"We can't just leave her there, by herself!" she continued looking back at a petite child on the street corner.  
  
"We have to Lon, you know what will happen if we don't! They'll find us. Besides she isn't even our kid. If she was this would be different," protested the lanky gypsy man, known as Aramis.  
  
"I know, but I just feel so guilty, she's only a child after all," piped the gypsy woman.  
  
"Look at it this way Lon, after not hearing from us, someone will be sent for her, and she'll be in her rightful home, a real home. If worse comes to worst, during her twenty-first year, she'll have to be taken back, it was part of the agreement, " explained Aramis, to his wife who was all to familiar with the deal they had made with the anonymous nobles.  
  
"Mmmm," murmured Londra, thinking of the little girl's grandiose future. Snapping out of her coma, Londra offered one more argument before being flung into the gondola, babe in arms, "Us leaving her was not part of the agreement Aramis!"  
  
"And you having a grotesque child wasn't either!" he hissed at his wife.  
  
"Don't say such things, he is yours too!" corrected Londra, tears in her eyes. The day had been too much for her; having a less than perfect child in the world's eyes, but an angel in her own, being forced to leave the closet thing to a daughter that she had ever known, all to flee some unknown enemy who had been haunting the gypsy couple ever since they had taken the girl under their wings. Londra sighed and her lips twisted to form a pathetic frown, which hardly ever graced the woman's face.  
  
"Can we please get going," Aramis demanded to his friend, who had offered to help the couple escape.  
  
"The sooner we get out of Paris the better," Aramis murmured to himself. As the couple calmed down, the gondola slowing glided into the awaiting darkness to the hushed cries of the baby Londra clutched. Neither knew of the dangers that awaited them, or their misshapen 'bundle of joy.'  
  
***  
  
Skye had forgotten the reason why her parents had left; all she knew was that she had never returned to the Court since being forsaken. What would the gypsies think of her if they found out her own parents couldn't even put up with her. She had been quite rambunctious for a little one, though her mother had always boasted how lady-like she was. From time to time Skye envisioned the free spirited ebony haired wild-eyed child who stood on the side of the busy street staring at parents who would never return. For some reason, Skye did not care about being left alone when she was younger. She had always found refuge when needed; there was constantly an elderly woman willing to feed a homeless child. All Skye ever had to do was look up at a compassionate passer-by with her round, bleak, teary eyes and she would have food and shelter for a week. And then they discovered she was a gypsy.  
  
Skye shuttered at the memories of her childhood. How fast she had grown up, though she didn't realize it. The small ebony haired child was now a woman. Her eyes were like two small black holes, always losing people in them, and her petite child like stature was adorable, though she abhorred being tiny. She wasn't overwhelmingly attractive, but there was something about her that made heads turn. The aura that trickled around her made her somewhat appealing.  
  
***  
  
The day was waning, and soon it would be completely dark. As the last bit of sunlight began to disappear, Skye curled up in the alleyway that she had spent the last few hours inhabiting. Having nothing else to do, Skye began to think. Often times, her thoughts were the only things to keep her company in a world where the gift of friendship was too rare an item. While thinking about what she knew of the gypsies she shivered in fear as she remembered the Paris fires a few months back. She never quite knew why the city was had been a victim of such terror, but she did hear rumors from passersby that the minister of justice, Claude Frollo, had gone crazy for a gypsy girl, Esmeralda, who Skye had seen before dancing in the street; he set fire to the city in his madness. Skye was in the crowd when Esmeralda was burned at the stake and the Notre Dame's hunchback had saved the day, and she watched in horror as fiery liquid had rained down on Paris from atop the bell tower and was even more terrified as she noticed the insane Frollo glaring at her before darting into the bell tower. The thought of Frollo ever coming back to Paris scared Skye more than anything, even more than the fires. She just knew that one day the minister would return and lash out on her, which is what appeared like what was going to happen, had Claude not been distracted with the Quasimodo that fateful night.  
  
Thinking about the gypsies and the fires frightened Skye as the night proceeded; then, as Skye looked up at the shady clouds she saw the cathedral, Notre Dame, in the distance. No matter where she went in the city, she could always find the tower; it comforted her to be able to know something would always be there, even if other aspects of her life weren't so stable. Also, the bell ringer, Quasimodo, intrigued Skye. He seemed so kind when Skye had seen him for the first time in town, after the fires. People used to fear him; now he was the hero in town; granted, people still would only utter a few phrases in his direction before scurrying away. Skye always had wanted to go in the bell tower and befriend the bell ringer, but she never had had the courage. As thoughts danced around in Skye's mind, she slowly felt her fatigue and drifted off to dream.  
  
***  
  
The thick smoke billowed through Skye's lungs and pierced her dark eyes. The colors of midnight stained her face as she rolled about the silent alleyway; she moaned and cried out as if trying to escape the grasps of a tantalizing nightmare. What she didn't realize was that she was no longer dreaming about the petrifying Paris fires, but that she was being penetrated with the glowing blaze. During her slumber a cloaked enemy attempted to burn the gypsy's surroundings, so as to infiltrate the dark haired dreamer's body with flames. Before the fiend could carry out his plans for Skye, the gypsy awoke in horror and fled the fearful scene, as an unexpected nightmare watched from the shadows.  
  
***  
  
In the early, dark moments before morning the gypsy girl walked the streets of Paris looking for refuge. Though she was lucky that her life had been spared she was left with many scars to always remind her of how dark night could truly be. Skye was in dire need of sanction. As soon as she had gotten over the shock of being on flambé she realized why she had been targeted; Skye knew that the gypsies were hated, but she never could imagined that someone would try to kill her for being one of them. Though the girl had not been the gypsy court in over a decade, she new that was where she needed to go. Surely her own people would offer her shelter and a shoulder to cry on. She was almost at the gypsy refuge, when the burdens of her life, and her clumsiness, caused her to collapse in the graveyard, which held the Court entrance. Her royal blue skirts ruffled as the wind blew and her matching top had tattered in the process of all the drama. As she lay in silence, her mind wandered, and slowly her breathing began to decrease as she coughed and sputtered.  
  
The dawning of a new day began, and the sun was just starting to peek out from over the bell tower, as the wiry gypsy king, Clopin Trouillefou, snuck out of the catacombs that housed the gypsy court. He often tried to escape in the morning as to have a few moments to himself, privacy was something he didn't enjoy but needed. Being the gypsy king was a very stressful job, which he could never abandon, even though he would never think of renouncing his title.  
  
As he glimpsed at the surrounding graveyard, he was startled to see that he was not alone. At the secret entrance into the underground gypsy court, lied a girl. Clopin rushed over to her and realized she wasn't dead, but merely in a drowsy comatose. Her breathing was slow and heavy, and occasionally she began to wheeze. As the king started to sweep the girl up in his arms, to take her someplace safe, he saw on her the tiny celestial markings scarred onto her ankle indicating that she was a true member of the Roma. (All true gypsies had the markings cut into their skin at birth, a painful yet necessary process.) Relief flooded over Clopin, as he knew the gypsy's in the court would be warm and welcoming towards a battered member of their own race than towards an injured stranger. Gypsy's could be as cruel like some of the prejudiced Parisians, who sought out the gypsies to ridicule and torture, Clopin included. With a smile on his face, the king tenderly picked up the girl in his arms and proceeded towards the court. Though the he did not yet realize it, his heart had heated when he held the girl in his arms.  
  
***  
  
Clopin crept through the catacombs, hoping not to draw any attention to himself or to the unconscious lady in his arms. Just when he thought he had reached his tent without being noticed, he heard a mob of murmurs and squeals.  
  
"Who is she?" muttered a member of the gathering crowd. After gently setting the girl on his cozy bed of straw and ever so carefully draping his best sheets across her limp body, Clopin stepped out of the tent anxiously to attempt to calm the growing cluster of gypsies.  
  
"There's nothing to see here so go on your way, all of you," cried the king to his people. Of course the gypsies were not going to leave until they got the answer they wanted so with a frustrated sigh Clopin explained the situation further.  
"I think she was attacked, but don't worry she is no stranger. She is one of us." With that, sighs of relief were uttered from the gypsies, and they began to chatter about the "new" girl. Clique by clique the gypsies started to drift away from Clopin's tent as the whispers grew. Smiling, as he shuffled back inside of his tent, Clopin was delighted to see that the girl's breathing was starting to become normal.  
  
Only a few minutes had passed when Clopin became filled with anticipation. The king was even more anxious then usual and could not stand still. He couldn't wait for his "damsel in distress" to enliven! Clopin was a known 'womanizer' and couldn't help but smile when he saw another girl to add to his "collection." Looking around the tent, Clopin realized that his surroundings weren't yet fit for the presence of a lady, so he quickly began to spruce up the place.  
  
While Clopin tidied up his tent in preparation for the girl's awakening, Skye's eyes fluttered opened. Instead of being shocked to be in a stranger's tent (like she thought she should have been) she was awed at how attractive her roommate was. He was dressed in a dark purple suit with a matching yellow-feathered hat. His suit was adorned with bells and a dark indigo cape ornamented his broad shoulders; a jagged dagger sat in its sheath upon his leg, waiting for battle. He was thin and wiry, but looked like he was strong and fit. Skye blushed at her thoughts and all of a sudden a fit of coughs came about her.  
  
Clopin spun around and muttered strange words until the choking ceased. Both Clopin and Skye were brimming with questions for each other, but Skye decided to let the man speak.  
  
"Mademoiselle," started Clopin as he kissed Skye's hand affectionately, "would you give me the pleasure of knowing your name?" Clopin had always addressed women like that, but there was something about this girl that made him feel different, like he had never felt before. Clopin wasn't the expert on feelings (being that he usually only kept women around 'til he grew bored with them), but this one evoked odd emotions in the king, which he brushed off as physical attraction.  
  
"Skye is my name," spat the girl, trying not to sound bitter. She was still overwhelmed from the attack.  
  
"A very pretty name for a very pretty girl," boasted Clopin, noticing the girl's tone fear-filled tone, as he sat down next to Skye. Skye considered his remarks. "Me pretty? He must be blind!" she thought.  
  
"Is this the Court of Miracles?" she asked, ignoring her thoughts about her appearance.  
  
"Yes and you are safe here. Because you are a gypsy, the people here will welcome you with open arms, and if they don't they'll deal with me," chortled Clopin, with a slight arrogance. The girl obviously did not know he was the gypsy king. In fact he had never seen her in town before, let alone the Court.  
  
Realizing he had not yet introduced himself Clopin began, "I beg your pardon, I have not yet told you my name, I am Clopin Trouillefou, king of the gypsies and vagabonds and the piece de resistance of Paris." Suddenly Skye brought her head down from the clouds, and started to get nervous.  
  
"How do you know you can trust him Skye," she pondered. "He's attractive," was the only argument she could offer to herself. "And arrogant, and most likely not trustworthy!" her sensible side continued, "he probably only wants to kiss and caress me, like every other 'man'."  
  
"Ugh!" she unwittingly groaned allowed, to a confused Clopin.  
  
"I know I can be chatty, but allow me to ask a few more questions," Clopin urged, hoping he wasn't scaring the girl with his forwardness.  
  
"Ummm... of course you may," Skye managed to sputter out, not sure if she should bolt or stick around.  
  
"Why have I never seen you here before, I noticed you are a Roma and..." Skye cut him off before he could finish his inquiry.  
  
"When I was little I lived here and...," she wouldn't let herself continue.  
  
"Never give too much of anything, especially information, away! Always leave them wanting more!" Skye could hear her father's lectures still in her mind. Two twinkling black orbs dimmed as Skye thought of her long-gone loved one.  
  
"One more question," the king begged, throwing Skye from her trance.  
  
"Yes, your highness," Skye answered. He was some kind of royalty after all, and she didn't want to be rude to her new king, despite her unsure feelings towards him. Clopin's cheeks reddened at her formality.  
  
"Well," he started, "How did you wind up at the graveyard?" Clopin always liked to know everything about everyone, and being the king he felt he had the right to meddle in the lives of his subjects. Skye shivered when thought of what had happened.  
  
"Fire, I had to run...Court of Miracles I remembered, fell..." Skye was so worked up she could hardly tell her story.  
  
"I understand." Clopin looked at Skye, and as their eyes met again Skye realized he truly did know what she meant.  
  
"He isn't half bad," she concluded, as she grew dismal at the thought of Clopin being attacked. Almost all gypsies had been victims of hate and not even the king was a stranger to being attacked.  
  
***  
  
"Run!" was all he heard before being thrown onto the street. Clopin had tried to get away, but the warning had not arrived soon enough. Frollo's soldiers beat Clopin with a rage like no other militia. Despite the intense pain flowing down his spine, Clopin knew he could escape easily. He wasn't very modest and decided to battle the buffoons single handily. Using his perfected acrobatic skills, Clopin threw legs over his head, so that he was now positioned in a handstand. Lucky for him the imbeciles had neglected to restrain his legs, so the motion was easily accomplished. Before the guards had time to process what had happened Clopin was back on his feet and ready to attack. However, with three guards in front of him, and even more behind, Clopin felt fighting wouldn't save him this time. He tried to escape by throwing his "getaway" powder, that the gypsy children referred to as 'magic dust,' but his plans for victory were stopped short when Frollo himself sliced the king's shoulder with his faithful dagger. Pushing the king onto the ground Frollo scowled.  
  
"That is where you belong your highness," he bellowed mockingly. The minister of justice left Clopin in the mud, as he gathered his troops and left the Paris square. All of the violence had been carried out right in front of Notre Dame herself; and now the heavens seemed to scowl as dark thunderclouds rolled over Paris. Clopin slowly got back on his feet. Making his way back to his Court, he vowed never to be beaten at anything again.  
  
***  
  
"Well so much for introductions," said Clopin running his hand over his battle scar and shaking his head to take him away from the painful memory.  
  
"Shall we introduce you to the Court now?" he asked Skye rhetorically. Not leaving time for reply Clopin unfastened the tent flaps and motioned for her to join him on the cobblestone pathway. She scurried towards Clopin and looked at all of the gypsies before her. Surprisingly, they weren't stern looking or mean. They all looked so kind and gentle, as opposed to the cruel faces of the Parisians. Clopin stepped out in front of Skye as he introduced her.  
  
"People of the Court, join me in welcoming our newest sister, Skye." The gypsies applauded as Skye blushed. She didn't like being the center of attention, but she felt so eased, like she finally belonged somewhere. Clopin grasped her hand and led her through the crowd of smiling faces. Though she wanted to wriggle herself free from his welcoming touch, Skye resisted the temptation. For once she felt as if someone actually wanted to be with her. Things were beginning to get brighter for Skye.  
  
A/N: Me again! What do you think? Dull, too crazy, just plain bad? Please leave a review and let me know what you think! And now to the next chapter.... 


	2. The Dancer and the Demigod

Chapter Dieux – The Dancer and the Demigod  
  
A/N: IMPORTANT: First of all, THANK YOU SO MUCH REVIEWERS! Rose7 – your feedback helped immensely: I hate when romance is rushed (and it was in this fic) so I am changing things around a bit. Also I have made some structural changes, I hope the story is easier to read now. Chapters 2 through 4 have changed quite a bit and I have changed the overall plot around a tad. Please continue to review. The reviews help me so much! .:*:.PrimRose.:*:.  
  
Clopin walked Skye around the Court, introducing her to gypsies as he saw fit. Finally, Clopin stopped in front of a multicolored tent, not so far from his own quarters, overlooking the hustle and bustle. He tapped on the side of the tent, and a beautiful raven-haired, emerald-eyed woman stepped out.  
  
"Skye," said Clopin, "allow me to introduce you to La Esmeralda. I'm sure you've seen her before." The Clopin and Esmeralda laughed at his nonchalant reference to her near fatal run on with Frollo a few months prior. Skye started become nervous.  
  
"Bonjour," Esmeralda said. "It's a pleasure to meet you I hope we can become friends." She finished, cringing at her proper dialogue.  
  
Though Esmeralda was usually friendly and welcoming, Skye could tell that the beauty before her wasn't so sincere. The eyes of Esmeralda and Skye locked; both belles glared at each other, though neither could comprehend why they were doing so. As the two lost their scowls, Skye felt more than a twinge of envy towards Esmeralda. There was just something about the dancer that Skye felt she lacked. Though Skye seemed to be benevolent and good-hearted, jealousy was one of her most hated vices. Before allotting the new one a chance to reply, Esmeralda bolted.  
  
Hurrying towards the exit of Court, with her loyal Billy goat cantering beside her, she yelled, "I'll see you later Clopin I've got places to be."  
  
"Odd," thought Clopin. There was something funny about Esmeralda lately and he knew it had something to do with a certain golden haired 'sun god.'  
  
Brushing the thought from his mind, Clopin took Skye back to his tent. Normally, at this point newcomers to the clan would have already been assigned to a tent, given a job, and tested for talents, but Clopin didn't want to rush Skye into anything. In fact, he hoped that she would be comfortable staying in his tent. He liked this one, and he wouldn't give her a chance to reject him. Not realizing the favoritism he was already demonstrating, Clopin began to plan out Skye's gypsy life. Hand in hand, as Clopin led her back into the tent, Skye was oblivious to the affection Clopin was showing her. She wasn't too thrilled with any feelings involving men; she had seen how filthy even the self proclaimed "cleanest" were.  
  
Walking back to Clopin's tent, Skye trembled at the two nooses hung over the platform, amidst tapestries and wooden carts. Clopin sensed Skye's discomfort and began to explain the gallows to her.  
  
"We don't much like intruders," he gestured slyly. Skye nervously giggled hoping that her neck would never become familiar with the rope.  
  
"Don't worry, I am the judge in all cases and you will never have to face trial," Clopin assured suavely before adding, "If you are lucky," while pulling back his tent drapes.  
  
After situating themselves in the rather spacious tent, Clopin began explaining the gypsy lifestyle to Skye.  
  
"We all either have jobs or talents that we do to earn our keep," began Clopin. "I puppeteer, some dance and play instruments, others weave baskets. I don't want to rush you into anything, you being sick and all, but in order to be accepted here you must take on a craft," explained the king.  
  
"I'm not sick!" debated Skye; she hated when people told her how she felt.  
  
Ignoring her attempt to contradict the king, Clopin continued, "While you think about what you might want to pursue for a couple weeks, why don't you assist me, I don't necessarily need help but I'd like it," he hinted. Sensing that his statement was more of a command, not an offer, Skye hesitated but sheepishly agreed, he did technically save her after all.  
  
As Skye softly smiled at the king, her throat became dry, and a violent fit of coughs attacked her. After what seemed like forever the coughing ceased and Clopin went to hold her.  
  
"Instead of giving you your own tent, I think it would be best if you stayed with me for awhile," started Clopin with the Skye in his arms. He certainly was debonair. Taken aback by his comment, Skye's cheeks turned a brilliant red. As much as she wanted decline his generous offer, she couldn't refuse. Clopin had been the only gypsy who welcomed Skye, and she was hesitant to branch out her friendships.  
  
"I'll take care of you Mademoiselle," exclaimed Clopin knowing he had made an impact on her, as Skye perched herself on the bed. It was only mid- day, and though Skye felt as if she was intruding, her weak body couldn't resist a warm resting place. Clopin helped her lay down and tucked the sheets around her. Skye wished she hadn't felt so terrible, because she didn't want to appear to be helpless, but her lungs made her think otherwise, and with the king sitting next to her, Skye drifted off into a peaceful slumber. The last things she gazed at were his eyes.  
  
Clopin sat next to Skye, until he was sure she would be all right. After silently slipping out of his tent as not to disturb Skye, Clopin headed off to the center of the court. He knew he needed to call a meeting with his people to be sure they all wanted to keep Skye stay with them. Subconsciously, Clopin realized that even if the gypsies weren't comfortable with Skye, he wouldn't reject her. As he headed to the Court's platform, shaking the tambourine that signaled the gypsies to join him, he was surprised to see that the gypsies came at once, as if they had been waiting for the call. Like an enormous colony of bees, they were buzzing about the girl.  
  
"I've called you together, to discuss our newcomer. She will be staying with me until she is better, and no one will have a problem with that! If you give her any trouble then be prepared to deal with me!" Discrepancy never was Clopin's strong suit, and though brief, Clopin felt that his speech was complete, and to the point.  
  
Clopin capered off the platform smiling and made his way back to his tent. Though many of the gypsies concluded that Clopin possessed a liking towards Skye, the king merely was thrilled to have a new resident gypsy. Things had been merely humdrum lately and Skye was a favorable addition that would surely mix things up a bit.  
  
***  
  
Esmeralda stood patiently at the door concealing the quarters of the Captain of the Guard. After Frollo's ordeal, Phoebus' position had been rightfully restored. Djali butted his head against the wooden door once more, after which the booming voice of Phoebus half heartily bellowed, "Come in." Sprawled on the uncomfortable cot that served as bed, Phoebus pondered who waited behind the door, while Esmeralda struggled to open the massive door. The Captain hadn't been expecting any visitors, but when he saw the slender figure of his love slide through the now opened door, he sprung up from his resting place to greet her with a gentle kiss.  
  
Reluctantly releasing her lips from his, Esmeralda embraced Phoebus, placing her head on one of his broad shoulders.  
  
"I've missed you," she whispered as Phoebus took her hands and squeezed them softly. It had been six months since the couple had first shared their feelings for one another in the very cathedral, which brought them together. Neither one of them could envision life without the other. Six months the two had steadily courted each other without fail.  
  
"Please sit down, love," Phoebus motioned, breaking the abnormal silence. Ordinarily, the two would be buzzing with news for each other, but now the room was hushed. Finally shutting the bulky door, Esmeralda plopped down on one of Phoebus' three-legged chair of timber. As she sat, she suspired out of contentment. Blankly, she focused on the bare wall ahead of her, not noticing that she had taken her mind away, once again. Esmeralda had been a little offbeat and distant after, what was currently referred to as, 'the incident;' nevertheless, Phoebus loved her more than he ever had before and ignored her unbalanced behavior.  
  
"Esmeralda," Phoebus began, patting his breast pocket, "I want to show you something..." The sunny-haired soldier scooped up his gypsy in his brawny arms and kicked the door open.  
  
He meandered around the city, Esmeralda still in arms, until he came to an abandoned bridge, located over the Seine, in a desolate meadow. As he began trudging into the familiar waters of the rushing river, Esmeralda bucked in his arms.  
  
"What are you doing?" she inquired with a confused grin on her bronzed face.  
  
"We've reached our stop my fair lady," Phoebus answered as he released a reluctant Esmeralda into the flowing river. She splashed and kicked and laughed as she played in the numbing water. While Esmeralda distracted herself, Phoebus recalled his brush with mortality when he was last in the same waters. Making sure the gypsy wasn't looking, the soldier kneeled in the water directly under the bridge and began to speak solemnly.  
  
"Esme, this was the same spot where you first acknowledged your feelings for me, and this is the spot where I want to make our love permanent." Esmeralda slowly rose from her spot and skitted over to Phoebus in a trance. Taking her hands in his Phoebus continued with a question the two had been waiting for, "Will you marry me?"  
  
***  
  
Skye awoke to the sweet smell of lilacs. As her eyes opened she noticed that Clopin had redecorated his tent. Flowers filled up the room like pastries filled up a baker's shop. As Skye examined the cheery tent, Clopin strolled in, pleasantly surprised to see that Skye was awake.  
  
"Bonjour Mademoiselle, so happy to see you awake. Did you sleep well?" inquired Clopin.  
  
"Yes, merci," answered Skye.  
  
"I would hope so," began Clopin, "you've been dozing on it for three days now.  
  
"Three days!" exclaimed Skye. She had never been able to sleep more than a few hours at a time, for fear of what could happen to her during her slumber. She must be getting more comfortable with her new lifestyle. At the sound of the morning bells Clopin began to jump. He was late for his morning puppet show.  
  
"Up, up, up Cherie! I don't mean to rush you, but we best be going, to catch the morning crowds," commented Clopin anxiously. He was always prompt and never kept the children waiting for his shows.  
  
"Oh of course, I'm sorry to keep you waiting," Skye responded.  
  
Skye and Clopin paraded down the Court as they made there way to the exit. Clopin had planned on leaving early so that Skye would escape the stares and scrutiny of the gypsies. She was still an object of awe to them, and there was no doubt in Clopin's mind that his beloved children would not be the only audience in front of his puppet stand that morning. Luckily, the Court was still empty, and Clopin and Skye left with ease. Once they reached Clopin's colorful cart, which was adjacent to the grand cathedral, Skye began to get excited. It seemed like this was the first day of her new life.  
  
Sitting on a bench Clopin had set up for her, Skye watched the puppeteer amuse the young crowd. He was so gentle and affectionate towards the little ones, and they all adored him in return.  
  
"He's going to be a wonderful father," Skye decided, before hastily removing the thought from her mind. After Clopin had satisfied the children's entertainment needs, he led Skye over to the cathedral steps, located directly behind his cart. Together they sat watching the commotion of Paris. Skye appeared to be in a trance as she gazed at the people. Noticing her silence, Clopin got up and began to demonstrate his enthusiasm and acrobatic skills to Skye. As he flipped and cart wheeled and tumbled the surrounding gypsies began to gather around their effervescent king. Flute and fiddle players added a tune to the movement and the best of the street dancers joined in their king's act. Skye laughed as she got on her feet to cheer the king on; he was so spontaneous. Clopin leaped over to where Skye was sitting and dragged her into the dance. The excitement heightened as Skye freely moved around, her steps bewitching. During her dance, Skye felt invigorated. She finally belonged.  
  
"Break it up, break it up," the soldiers instructed as they moved through the gypsy circle. They didn't seem angry or agitated; they were just trying to keep the crowd under control. By that point, Clopin's stunt had gone a little too far, every gypsy in town had joined in; the singing was now a roar and the dance a delirium. The temperate attitudes of the guards stunned the gypsies. If they hadn't been so thrilled with the tolerance, the gypsies might have suspected that something was odd. Under Frollo's rule they were malicious, unscrupulous, ruthless brutes, who beat every gypsy in sight. Clopin, like everyone one else, noticed the change and instead of wondering about the eerie behavior he thanked Quasimodo for ridding the city of the disease known as Dom Claude Frollo.  
  
"Alright fair subjects, get back to your stations, there is easy money to made," Clopin ordered in a singsong voice, as he bowed with a grin on his oval-shaped face. The Romas followed their king's orders without protest, they had had enough fun to fill their whole week and the sun had barely even risen! As the gypsies dawdled back to their jobs, Clopin searched the crowd for Skye. He found her in front of Notre Dame.  
  
As Skye looked up at the bell tower, Clopin snuck up behind her and rested his head on hers. Because Skye only stood five feet tall, Clopin was well over a foot taller than her.  
  
"You sure are fascinated with her aren't you little one," Clopin mused. Skye spun around, looked up at his eyes and smiled her irresistible smile. Her long lashes framed her charcoal eyes and her lopsided grin made Clopin melt.  
  
"Clopin," began Skye, breaking the silence.  
  
"Yes," answered the king.  
  
"Can you take me to the bell tower? Ever since I can remember looking at Notre Dame cheered my dismal heart. It would always be there, even if my parents were not," Skye explained. Linking her arm with his in a friendly manner, Clopin said nothing but led the girl to the cathedral.  
  
"Close your eyes," instructed Clopin. Skye did as she was told, reluctantly, but quickly glanced at her surroundings.  
  
"No peeking," he laughed. Skye again tightly shut her eyes while Clopin guided her through the cathedral. After climbing flights of stairs, Clopin finally had reached their destination. Before letting Skye open her eyes, Clopin looked around for his hunchback friend. Quasimodo was nowhere to be found; ever since he had obtained his freedom, he made sure he got good use of it. Freedom was certainly not something to take for granted, especially for someone like Quasi. Clopin brought Skye out to the balcony and allowed her to open her eyes.  
  
Skye couldn't speak as she gazed down at the city. The sun was just beginning to rise and painted a beautiful picture in the distance. The clouds were lustrous and silver lined, the sky a dazzling blue, but nothing could be compared to the sun. It glistened and sparkled as it lit up the morning sky, and as it cast it brilliance upon Skye's face, she too became radiant, like an angel-on-earth.  
  
"Well what do you think?" smiled Clopin. Skye couldn't speak; never had she seen such an abundance of beauty.  
  
A/N Chapter 3: Bells of Her Heart *revised* Chapter 4: Indecent Proposal Chapter 5: Troubled Two Chapter 6: Of Love and Hatred Chapter 7: Longing For Acceptance Chapter 8: Unheard of Truths  
  
Part II: Cold as Winter Chapter 9: Ring of Light  
  
COMING SOON! What do you think of the titles? 


	3. Bells of Her Heart

Chapter 3 – Bells of Her Heart  
  
A/N: This is so much more difficult than I thought, thanks to a cruel and dark place, aka the Real World. I am trying to get Part Une finished in two weeks. Again, thanks to reviewers the advice really helps, as I am a rookie fanfic writer. Without further ado, I present Chapter Three...  
  
At the sound of footsteps Clopin and Skye halted their converstaion; Quasimodo must have returned. "Is that..." asked Skye, not being able to her inquiry as Notre Dame's most famous resident hobbled onto the balcony to join the pair.  
  
"Clopin, so glad to see you again!" greeted Quasimodo with a friendly expression.  
  
"Who is this lovely lady?" the hunchback asked still smiling. (Quasimodo wore smiles like others wear trousers; only when he was in despair did he ever let a frown appear upon his face.)  
  
"My name is Skye, and I've wanted to meet you for the longest time," spoke the girl for herself, not letting Clopin answer for her.  
  
"Pleasure to meet you Madame," Quasimodo responded. "Your welcome to join me anytime," he continued.  
  
Clopin looked down upon the city and realized it was getting late; crowds of children were beginning to get antsy waiting for their beloved puppeteer and his mid-morning show.  
  
"We must be going now," Clopin hinted to Skye.  
  
"Oh yes! I'm sorry I forgot there were jobs to be done," she said hesitantly.  
  
After gaining the courage to do so, Skye added, "Oh Clopin, can I please stay here, I'll only get in your way and cause you trouble." Clopin looked at the pleading girl and flourished his arm, indicating that he would allow her to stay. He sighed as she planted a meaningless kiss on his cheek. He shouldn't have let her stay, but how could he refuse those child-like eyes.  
  
"Oh merci, highness!" Skye exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Clopin in delight. Subconsciously she realized that Clopin's had a soft spot for her, which she could use for her advantage, if necessary. Clopin trudged out of the tower as Skye awed over Quasimodo's detailed miniature city.  
  
"It's the merchant and the snobby inn keeper, you portray her well," Skye mused.  
  
"I've always watched them all from afar," mentioned Skye, wistfully to herself. "Never welcomed to stand in the sun with them, hiding in alley ways to avoid inevitable confrontation," she muttered.  
"I understand," urged Quasimodo, though he didn't describe his injustices.  
  
"Esmeralda, she looks so beautiful," Skye mentioned palming the carved figurine.  
  
"She is one of my favorite additions," Quasimodo commented. At the mention of his gypsy friend, Quasimodo casually glanced around looking for Esmeralda. She said that she would visit him in the morning, and it was very rare case that she wasn't prompt. Quasimodo didn't put the lateness past her, however, he had realized her recent odd behaviors, though her manners were somewhat an anathema among the gypsies.  
  
Despite the brief meeting, Quasimodo liked Skye. She was like him, unwanted by many, and loved by few. He gazed at her, she was tiny and was the stereotypical gypsy, dark haired, dark eyed, and dark skinned. Though she could never compare to Esmeralda, she possessed an odd beauty. An ordinary man would pass her by, but a special man would realize her allure.  
  
"Oh no!" Skye gasped, realizing that she had selfishly abandoned her king. She hated that it was gypsy royalty who had brought her to safety, not an ordinary Roma, for Skye felt like turning down any of the king's offers would be insubordination.  
  
"Farewell Quasimodo, I'll visit soon!" she called, fleeing the tower, to the hunchback's dismay.  
  
***  
  
As Clopin calmly tried to shuffle out of the cathedral, his head hung and eyes low, he was stopped by the cries of a euphonious voice.  
  
"Clopin!" Skye called out of breathe from running. "I felt terrible about leaving you, since I promised to help out. After all, I want to prove to the others that I'm not useless," she informed brightly. Skye knew that the real reason that she left the tower was not to prove her worth, but to be with the one that made her heart sing, subconsciously of course. For Skye was not one who let silly crushes take over her whole being.  
  
The two walked over to Clopin's puppet stand, where a group of excited children waited to watch their favorite morning puppet shows. Putting on his famed puppet, Clopin made the children squeal with delight. While Clopin entertained the crowd, Skye took a seat on an old crate, and watched her king in awe from afar, as she had done before. The multitudes of little ones watching the puppeteer were all so dear to Clopin. Over the years he had gotten to know each one of them as a unique individual and made them all feel loved and unique. Many of the darlings had parents who overlooked the joys in their children's lives like the ability to do a stable somersault or the findings of new four-legged friends, and the Parisian puppeteer was the glimmering sunshine peaking through the clouds in the midst of a rain shower.  
  
***  
  
The evening bells hadn't yet tolled as Skye walked down the Court on her way to Clopin's tent. She still camped with him due to lack of space in the Court. Stroking her nose with a coin, Skye meandered the cobble-stoned pathway until she reached the tent on the second tier of the Court. Voices could be heard a few feet away from the shelter and Clopin's wasn't alone; he was with a girl. Peering inside, Skye sighed when she realized whom the throaty female voice belonged to: Esmeralda.  
  
"Clopin, just listen to me for once!" Esmeralda begged in a loud moan.  
  
"I've heard enough! I can't believe you would do such a thing. I though you had more sense! Why Esme why?" Skye could hear Clopin complain.  
  
"Because I love him Clopin, but you don't know what love is! All you know is instant gratification and because of that you will never have what Phoebus and I have! Esmeralda tried to explain, starting to tear up.  
  
"Can't you just wait, figure out the details. Like where are you planning to live cherie have you thought of that? I know his quarters aren't big enough to hold the two of you." Clopin went on, ad nauseum.  
  
"The gypsies love Phoebus, he saved us remember, they will have no complaints if he lived with me, in my quarters. And we don't need details we need are hearts, that is it. Why can't you except it?" the girl questioned looking up at her friend, and king, with her smoky eyes.  
  
Listening to the argument, Skye felt a brief pity towards Esmeralda; how could Clopin not allow her to be with the only love she had ever known?  
  
Skye didn't have to worry for too long, however, because after Esmeralda's last point Clopin outstretched his arms to welcome his friend in a warm embrace.  
  
"I give you my permission love, though you never needed it. I will support you no matter what your decision," Clopin assured, Esmeralda resting her head on his shoulder, wet from her tears of joy. As Esmeralda's heart pounded, the chiming of Quasimodo's beloved bells could be heard in the distance. It was a beautiful ending to a beautiful day.  
  
A/N: Sorry so short, Chapter Four should be up in a few days. Please review! 


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